


Clean Slate

by angelette



Series: Prompt fills [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelette/pseuds/angelette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and the Winchesters celebrate Christmas. Really, it's just shameless fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Slate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Butterfly93](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Butterfly93), [butterfly931](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterfly931/gifts).



> Written after 8x08
> 
> It's a belated birthday gift for my lovely friend, Butterfly93, who is Dean to my Sam. Happy Birthday, honey, and I'm sorry it took so long.
> 
> Also, English is not my native language, and it's unbeta'd, so beware of the grammar errors and typos.

The snow starts falling in small, white flakes, dancing merrily in the light wind. It slowly covers the world in a soft blanket; the bare trees are stark contrast to the blinding whiteness. It’s cold, it almost hurt to breathe, but Castiel doesn’t mind it as he’s sitting on a bench in the park and watches the kids running around and screaming in joy. The whole scene has a calm feeling to it and he relaxes a little bit the first time since he miraculously escaped Purgatory. It’s simple and pure as the humans forget about their every day misery because of a small and meaningless thing; it fascinates him, and reaches him.

 

But is it really a wonder why humans react to the snow like this? They – just like him – have their secrets, shames, painful memories, and they carry their burdens all the time. They seek a magic escape, a miracle, that will tell them ‘it’s gonna be okay.’ And then the snow falls, hiding the littered slivers of broken glass, rubbish and all the imperfections, making it easy to pretend that nothing was ever wrong, no one was ever careless. It leaves a perfect clean slate after itself, giving people hope.

 

And that’s what Castiel wants above all else: a clean slate. Even after being in Purgatory, and do penance for all the wrong things he’s done, he still feels the guilt overwhelming him. He doesn’t want to go to Heaven to make everything right, even if he feels an inclination to do it, something holds him back in the last minute. So he does the next best thing he could think of: he helps the Winchesters to _save_ people, the very same people he caused so much misery with his self-righteousness. This thought always leaves him bitter, because wasn’t this what Lucifer had done, so many years ago? Isn’t it the worst sin an angel can commit? And he remembers too vividly when Lucifer said, he will be just like him.

 

But Castiel thinks his worst fault is that he let Dean down, the one person who never failed him. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why he chose to be a hunter, to make it up to Dean.

 

~oOo~

 

Sam has always known that Castiel meant a lot to Dean, he was there for his brother when Sam wasn’t, for one thing, and they completed and challenged each other. Sam isn’t sure when he noticed the shift, that slight change in their relationship. Up until then they were as tight as he and Dean, they always stand up for one another, they helped each other, were close, but they grew closer after Cas make it back from Purgatory.

 

At first Sam doesn’t think about it twice, he just writes it off as a side effect from their ordeal. He can’t imagine how hard could have been in Purgatory, all the fight, blood, gore and monsters. He thinks Dean is just relieved after thinking Castiel dead and living with the survival’s guilt.

 

But then as Sam emerges from his memories and daydreams of Amelia, he does notice it. (Or maybe he needed to remember Amelia to realize what is going on.) Maybe even Cas or Dean don’t know it, but they are exactly like he and Amelia, and it strikes Sam a little funny, and almost laughs out loud, but instead just smiles. Dean asks ‘what is so hilarious,’ but he just shakes his head and off they go to another job, to another crappy motel.

 

From then Sam watches them, really sees them as they are: two broken men, who hold on to each other. Dean is beyond repair, maybe he was like that even before Hell, with his whole childhood robbed off, he never really got the chance to play the ‘normal people game,’ even with Ben and Lisa he had the fear of supernatural threats for constant companion. And Cas is like this, too, he never was human, he had always a duty, but he can feel, he’s as much a human being like them. Sam wonders if God really had the right to make a whole army of angels, make them capable of feelings, and tuck them away in a separate realm with rules and whatnot. Sam doesn’t continue this line of thinking: for one thing, he sure learned that life is never fair, and doesn’t want to think of rebelling angel, because he remembers too vividly of Lucifer’s presence in his mind.

 

Instead whenever he can, he looks at his two companions, how they are always close to each other, leaning subconsciously to the other, touching lightly an arm, a shoulder for comfort, support. How Dean gets the perverse joy from corrupting (educating as he says) the angel, teaching him everything about weapons (‘I know you got the angel juice, Cas, but maybe one day you will need it.’), about pop culture references (‘Yes, that’s Dr. Sexy, and the cowboy boots are important.’), about human interaction (‘Maybe next time don’t say that her husband was smeared all over the wall.’) and about other important things (‘We need licorice with that popcorn.’) Strangely, Dean doesn’t comment about the fact that Cas always wears the trenchcoat.

 

Sam sees that Cas is starting to relax, falling into the rhythm of the human life, tough the not sleeping thing is a little creepy, but Cas occupies himself. He starts to read books and asks Dean about the things he doesn’t understand, though Dean and reading are two different things, it’s funny to watch as Dean struggles to explain. (‘I don’t understand why Mr. Darcy is so alluring to women.’ ‘Cas, don’t read girlish books. It’s for girls.’) And Dean starts to smile, not his sarcastic and sad ones, but with his whole heart in it.

 

Right then Sam decides that though the idea of Dean and Cas being together _together_ is a little weird, he understands and gladly accepts it. Anything for his brother’s happiness and after all the shit they’ve been through, Dean deserves it.

 

~oOo~

 

Christmas catches them in a shitty motel – what a surprise, Dean thinks, and his mind jumps to the Christmas before he went to Hell. To a normal person it would be a terrible memory, but to Dean it’s ‘awesome.’ He always loved Christmas, but he wouldn’t admit it out loud how much, because that would be really girly. But it means a lot to him, it means that he belongs to somewhere, to someone, that he has a _family_ , people he needs, and people who need him.

 

They even have a plastic Christmas tree with lights and whatnots, and besides the eggnog there are lots of cookies and gingerbread, which are courtesy of Garth. Dean doesn’t ever dare to question how or more importantly when he had time to bake them, just goes with it.

 

After the crappy and cheesy Christmas movies and burgers and sweets, they actually exchange presents. Dean doesn’t remember when was the last time he did this – he is, but doesn’t want to think about Ben and Lisa, they are so far away, they could well as be in other universe, certainly that would be safer for them.

 

He gets comic hero movie DVDs from Sam, a new hunting knife from Garth, and a new leather jacket from Castiel. All in all it’s a good night and he doesn’t want to think any further, because he knows his future always will be dotted with danger, monsters and death. He doesn’t really want to think that but knows his chances to live to old age are small. He died so many times now, it’s ridiculous. But here and now, with his friends and his brother he’s absolutely satisfied with his life.

 

After that he can’t sleep, this semi-happy haze keeps him awake, so he goes for a beer to the Impala’s trunk, though God help him, he doesn’t need any more alcohol, but as Sammy says, he’s almost immune to it. That’s how he finds Castiel just standing on the edge of the parking lot like a statue in the falling snow. He asks what he’s doing, and the angel replies matter-of-factly that he likes to watch the snow. Dean laughs and comments on the fact that he doesn’t have to stand in the snow storm – but it’s hardly a storm, it’s just soft flakes dancing in the air – to watch it. It still amazes Dean how little Cas adapted to the human world: he understand the deep emotional, important things and the basic customs are just lost on him.

 

Dean doesn’t really know how it happens – he blames the alcohol, of course – but he finds himself pressed against Castiel, and all he feels is the angel: his warm breath on his cheek, his soft lips against his. Dean never thought about himself as gay or even bisexual, and he never, never, really, never stopped to think about what it meant that he wore pink woman underwear once.

 

But here he was, Dean Winchester, the real ladies’ man, kissing a very male angel. And he couldn’t care less. But Sam being Sam, he chose this moment to miraculously appear, which results in Dean sputtering some half-assed explanation, Cas standing like a statue and not letting Dean go, and Sam slightly blushing, but muttering that he’s glad that they finally admitted their relationship. It shocks Dean how could Sam think that they were dating, for God’s sake, but then the rightness he feels beside Castiel overwhelms everything else. In the end, Garth joins the little happy parade in the snow, claiming that ‘being gay is very okay,’ and Cas explains it very thoroughly that he is in fact genderless, and besides he doesn’t mind any sexual orientation, because love is pure and boundless. Dean just stands there silently; doesn’t dare to speak, but he lets himself intertwine his fingers with Castiel’s and likes the feeling of it.

 

For the first time in a long time Dean dares to hope: Not for world peace, or old age, or normal life, but a happy one. It’s twisted, it’s messy, it’s sometimes a little bit dysfunctional, but it’s his.


End file.
